Reflections
by Ashael
Summary: Heero angst and stuff. My first GW ficcie ever, so take it easy on me o.x;


Reflections  
  
A Songfic from Heero Yuy's Point of View  
  
As Written by Lauryne  
  
Song: "Reflections" by Christina Aguleria  
  
Sometimes, I wish it were all over. A poor, pitiful, cowering part of me wishes that maybe there would be an end to the killing. An end to waking up each morning and wondering if I'll see any of the pilots again.  
  
Look at me  
  
You may think you see  
  
Who I really am  
  
But you'll never know me  
  
Every day  
  
It's as if I play a part  
  
Now I see  
  
If I wear a mask I can fool the world  
  
But I cannot fool my heart  
  
Quatre and Duo look so innocent there, sleeping on the couch. You'd think they were dreaming about evil teachers and homework, or that new girl at school, or perhaps that red T-Bird in the showroom-but no. The way Duo tossed and turned, Quatre's furrowed brow, belied nightmares of battle, only gone completely wrong. I knew, because I dreamt the same.  
  
There is always an animalistic hunger to kill. The simple, sweetly savage joy of knocking down the bad guys, accomplishing the mission. That's what they were, of course. The evil ones. They didn't have families, hearts, doubtsthe list stretched into oblivion. Or did they?  
  
Who is that boy I see  
  
Staring straight back at me?  
  
When will my reflection show  
  
Who I am inside?  
  
I am now  
  
In a world where I  
  
Have to hide my heart  
  
And what I believe in  
  
But somehow I will show the world  
  
What's inside my heart  
  
And be loved for who I am  
  
  
  
And what was I? It would be nice to picture myself the brave golden knight to drive back, eventually destroying, evil.Â  But no. All the OZ soldiers were human, blindly following the orders of the insane. It's a kind of foolish bravery you have to admire.  
  
And me? I hide under a mask of impassiveness. The Perfect Soldier protects me. And I can't be the "good guy", nor can I be the wild killing machine. I am Death. Quiet, efficient. But even death is not neat and clean. Helllook at Duo.  
  
Duo is my exact opposite, and my twin. The kid simply won't shut up. Always cracking jokes, even in the middle of battle. And then there's Shinigami Duo- a relentless killer. His Gundam isn't called Deathscythe-Hell for nothing.  
  
And my Gundam? And impassive number. Wing Zero. Emotionless. Dead.  
  
Am I dead? Is Odin still alive underneath the Perfect Soldier, Heero Yuy?  
  
Maybe I don't want to know.  
  
Who is that boy I see  
  
Staring straight back at me?  
  
Why is my reflection  
  
Someone I don't know?  
  
Must I pretend that I'm  
  
Someone else for all time?   
  
I walked past the couch, through the kitchen, and out the back door. The door closed silently behind me. I walked down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched, my cap hiding my eyes. I passed a dirty, graffiti-plastered wall. Surely, when the wall had been erected, the architect had not anticipated this. Perhaps God was my failing architect, if he existed at all. I was stained and dirtied with dirt and war and blood.  
  
  
  
On the wall, there was a "wanted" poster. My face scowled out stormily, and I tore it off as I passed. Even then, I thought, What's the use? There are thousands more like it in this hellhole! That's what it was- a hellhole. A pitiful excuse for a flea bitten housing development. The universe had erupted in chaos, ignoring, perhaps even forsaking, this sleazy, seedy dump.  
  
When will my reflection show  
  
Who I am inside?  
  
There's a heart that must be  
  
Free to fly  
  
That burns with a need to know  
  
The reason why   
  
A real angel was Relena. While we, the Gundam pilots, and OZ battled like lemmings trying to trample themselves, Relena was an island of good sense and calm in this torrential war. We could only try and kill each other while she stood between us, holding out the olive branch of peace.  
  
But she was more than a great figure to me.  
  
Time after time, it had been necessary to eliminate this obstacle. But I couldn't because I- I what? I love her? A part of me laughed scornfully. She really is an obstacle.  
  
I passed a rancid, stagnant puddle, with a tired-looking oily rainbow filming over the surface. I stared at my reflection.  
  
Why must we all conceal  
  
What we think, how we feel?  
  
Must there be a secret me I'm forced to hide?  
  
I won't pretend that I'm  
  
Someone else for all time  
  
When will my reflection show  
  
Who I am inside?  
  
I stared back, expressionless.  
  
Suddenly I smirked.  
  
The monster.  
  
I broke out in a rare smile.  
  
The man.  
  
When will my reflection show  
  
Who I am inside?  
  
  
  
end 


End file.
